


It Runs in the Family

by Meraki_Moli



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A Little Oblivious, Alive Carla Yeager, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempt at Humor, Carla and Dina Hit It Off Right Off the Bat, Carla is Over Eren and Grisha, Crack, Dina is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, Eren is Too Tbh, F/M, Family, Fluff, Good Parent Carla Jaeger, Good Parent Grisha Yeager, Grisha Really Does Not Want to Be Here, Grisha is a Little Shit, Happy Divorce, Humor, I thought it was hilarious tbh, Kid Eren Jaeger, Kid Fic, Kid Zeke Jaeger, Meet the Family, No Levi :(, Post-Divorce, Stream of consciousness but not really, They're Friends and I Love It, Zeke Scares Grisha, Zeke is Nuts, bc I CRACK myself up, but I love him, eren doesn't care, haha - Freeform, i think i'm hilarious, i thought it was funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 14:57:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19022242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraki_Moli/pseuds/Meraki_Moli
Summary: Dina wants Grisha to be more involved in their son’s life. Grisha wants nothing to do with the psycho monster. Carla wants Eren to have someone to look up to.Sort of crack but there is some plot





	It Runs in the Family

**Author's Note:**

> I've been spitting some of these out relatively quickly (for me) and I'm kind of running out of steam (^_^;) but not quite!

Grisha sinks further into his seat, looking almost like a spooked cat, eyes darting around shiftily.

“She wants me to spend more time with Zeke.”

Carla laughs as she places the plate of food in front of Eren who digs in, only somewhat listening to his father’s woes.

“Sweetie, that’s good. You should get to know him a little.”

Eren nods in agreement, chubby cheeks jiggling with how stuffed they were. He pulls the fork out of his puckered mouth adorably and blinks curiously at his father as the man sinks even further into his seat.

“But he’s so _weeiirrrddd_ ,” Grisha complains. “He was a freaky little kid, always hanging around this older guy. Really weird.”

Carla rolls her eyes, wiping her hands on her dishrag, “suck it up. I think you should see him. And I think Eren should meet him as well.”

Eren’s eyes dart between his mother and his father, conflicted by his desire to help his father and his absolute distaste for other people. Dripping syrup and poised, the fork hovers in front of his slightly parted mouth.

“It’s not up for debate, Eren, you’re going. Go put on something nice when you’ve finished breakfast.”

He knows better than to argue and his entire demeanor collapses, his breakfast being eaten slowly.

The drive to Marley is three hours and if they were going to see someone Eren actually liked (a two finger list) he’d actually enjoy it. As it is, they aren’t, so he simply spends the 180 minutes (a little longer because Grisha was shaking so hard in the driver’s seat Carla sighed loudly, told him to pull over at the next gas station, and switched seats. And then a little later Eren needed to use the restroom and got hungry to which Carla bought him a small bag of chips to keep him busy) staring at the back of the passenger seat, moody and silent.

Carla tries to address him at times but is only met with a withering stare so, with a roll of her eyes and a huff she leaves him be.

Grisha seems to be in the same mood as their son, huffing in annoyance when she speaks to him and grumbling under breath.

At one point, Carla sighs loudly, the only hint of her irritation, “you’re both big babies.”

Neither respond.

“Grisha, so why don’t you even like this young man? I’m sure he’s a perfectly sweet, perfectly kind and well behaved little boy. How old did you say he was?”

“13, and he’s a little demon. Dennis the menace. He liked to go outside and throw rocks. Always had this bat he swung around and an armful of the neighborhood kids that would _die_ for him. He used to go to daycare and when we pulled him out he started going the next block over to hang out with some older guy that lived down the street. When I’d ask him what he was doing or if any of the other kids were there he just gave this creepy little smile.” Grisha wrinkles his nose at the thought.

“Well, maybe he just had a little friend.”

Grisha upturns his nose, bitterly crossing his arms and glaring, turning towards the window, “don’t make excuses for him, Carla.”

She rolls her eyes and they resume driving in silence.

Carla glances at her gps. Another half hour to go.

The house is nice, in a decent, if not old looking, sort-of neighborhood— _“someone probably died in one of these—” “don’t look so excited, Eren—”_ —the greenery isn’t as green as it could be, moreso brown and grey, but it blends with the houses nicely. Dina’s stands tall, with a long driveway, the houses on either side of hers sit relatively close with the same tall design and grey/black sequence that seem to dominate the semi colorless “neighborhood”. Her house is buried along the arm of a subdivision, one of the few that seems to be in the area, and Carla stops the car on the side of the road, hugging the curb versus awkwardly finding a good stopping point not too close to the house for guests but not to far as uncomfortability.

It looked the same as Grisha remembered.

They get out and he mutters at Carla over the roof of the car, “it’s not too late to get back in the car and keep going.”

She rolls her eyes, “come on, Eren. Hurry up.”

She starts up the driveway, Eren in tow. When they’re on the steps in front of the door she warns, “I expect you to be on your best behavior.” She looks up, “both of you.”

Grisha makes a face as Carla finally knocks. From inside there is a call that the door is open and Carla carefully turns the knob then steps in.

“Hello?” she calls, cautiously, “Dina Fritz?”

“Give me one moment! Please make yourselves at home.”

His parents make no moves, only begin towing off their shoes. Just as Eren is about to follow suit his eyes catch on a flash of movement down the darkened hallway.

Squinting and peering further he makes out a figure lurking somewhat behind a wall. He can only see a portion of them—

Half a face and a single, large, creepy eye. What can be seen of the figure’s shoulder is hunched and pressing against the wood as they stare Eren down. Shadows dance across their face, lighting up a forehead, nostrils, and a little bit of a chin. The eyes remain unblinking.

Eren stares back, blankly then turns to his mother, tugging on her long skirt. She doesn’t have time to acknowledge him because at that moment a tall woman with short blonde hair falling around her head and curling in at her shoulders bustles in, from a room on the left, wiping her hands on an apron.

“Grisha! I’m so glad you made it!” her voice is genuine and sweet and her smile sort of lights up the dark corridor.

“Oh Dina, my dear, it’s been so long!” he coos, voice high and falsetto, feigning politeness. His eyes dart around the hallway.

The other woman doesn’t seem to notice, genuinely lighting up and embracing him, “Yes, it has! How have you been?” When she pulls back, she cocks her head, “are you ok--? You look sort of clammy.”

“Oh, oh!” he laughs, his discomfort palpable, “just fine, just fine. Let me introduce you to my wife, Carla, and our son Eren.”

“Can we go home?” Eren cuts in, “I’m hungry. And there’s someone staring at us from over there.”

“Eren,” Carla bites, sharply, but her tone is light (so others will think she’s a calm and understanding woman and not planning the murder of her only son in 10 different ways). “You had breakfast before we left. I told you not to ask for food when we got here.”

Despite Eren’s lack of manners, Carla’s face is open and warm when she regards Dina, outstretching a hand that the other woman shakes eagerly.

“Come,” she immediately exclaims as if just now remembering that they are awkwardly standing in the hallway. “Follow me into the living room, I have cookies in the oven.”

She leads them down the hall. By the time they get to the end of it, which opens into a nice and spacious living area (Grisha remembers this area. The little Devil in disguise had shoved a pillow over his face after giving the older man a heart attack and tried to suffocate him. He would later claim it was only for research purposes. He snorts, research purposes Grisha’s ass) the boy Eren had seen is long gone. He looks around trying to catch a glimpse of him anywhere.

“Oh,” Carla starts, bringing a box forward, “these are for you. Grisha mentioned that you like chocolates. They’re imported from Germany, where I’m from.”

“Oh! Zeke will love these, thank you, Carla!”

She sets them down on the table, smiling warmly.

“So, where’s the little tyke?” the way he says it makes it obvious that he doesn’t really want to know.

Carla’s face freezes and she has half a mind to dig her nails into his arm but she refrains.

“Upstairs in his room, I’ll call him down,” she twists in her single armchair in the direction of the stairs, adjacent to the long sofa the larger family is on, to call over her shoulder, “Zeke! Sweetheart, Zeke! Come down here and see who is here to visit you.”

Carla actually does dig her fingernails into his arm when she catches him muttering under his breath, “ _please don’t_.” Her face remains the epitome of civility, smile firmly in place, but it wouldn’t be that farfetched to imagine a vein throbbing in her forehead that would match the annoyed twitch of her mouth.

There’s a heavy sigh and a little boy, a little older than Eren with loose strands of blond hair dangling by his ears stomps down the stairs.

He sighs again when he gets to the bottom. He regards his mother in annoyance but takes a few steps forward anyway.

Beneath her arm, Carla can feel Grisha fidgeting.

Finally, the boy glances at them. His eyes run interestedly over Eren the longest, then immediately they rest on Grisha.

“Hello, father.” Zeke says, ominously.

Grisha full out shudders. Hard. _This kid is a psychopath._

“It’s been a while,” he continues.

 _Not long enough if you ask me_ , Grisha leans forward, debates on whether to pat the kid on the head but decides against it, “it sure has. You’ve gotten really big! Are you behaving for your mother?”

“No.”

Grisha’s expression doesn’t change, frozen, “ok.”

“Oh, Zeke!” Dina scolds, laughing slightly. She rolls her eyes at Carla and they both share a motherly look of understanding, “normally he’s well behaved, but lately—”

Carla starts, “oh! Hello, Zeke. I’m Carla and this is my son, Eren. He’s your younger brother.”

Eren barely looks at him, finding something else to stare moodily at.

Zeke is silent. Doesn’t address Carla what so every and then—

“Do you want to go upstairs and hang out?”

Eren’s answer is instantaneous.

“No.”

But he has absolutely no say in what he does or does not want to do for Carla immediately intervenes, “he’d love to. Go on Eren, go ahead sweetie, don’t be shy.”

The tone of her voice books no room for argument even though her smile is still plastered.

Eren doesn’t whine or complain at his mother’s words, only sighs, climbs to his feet, and slides off the couch. He casts her a small, deadpan look before trudging, in every sense of the word, after his older half brother like a tired man starting the long climb up the tallest snowy mountain.

“Carla, sweetheart,” Grisha starts, somewhat timidly. “Perhaps it’d be better if Eren stayed here.”

The look Carla gives him is one parents give their kids when said kid has fucked up, but it’s in front of other adults and the parent wants to throttle them but can’t in front of company so it promises death the moment they have privacy. That’s the look Carla levels Grisha with though her tone does not betray her true feelings.

“Grisha, dear, we talked about this. It will be nice for Eren to have someone his own age to talk to and someone to look up to.”

Dina looks between them and laughs while Grisha sulks, “it looks like you have dear Grisha on a short leash, Carla, that’s wonderful.”

Carla laughs with her, “if I didn’t he _and_ Eren would be causing havoc wherever they go. At least for now it’s only one of them I can’t keep under control.”

Dina laughs sweetly again, nudging Grisha, “she’s a good one, dear. Where did you find her?” Conspiratorially, she leans into Carla and mock whispers, “Grisha and I were great friends growing up, we thought it would transition seamlessly into a relationship and we had a shotgun wedding, everyone expected us to get married, but well, we soon found out that wasn’t the case shortly after I had Zeke-a”

“-the little monster-” Grisha grumbles.

“-And, well, we just didn’t see eye to eye parenting wise—”

“Because, you know, Zeke is nuts,” Grisha says again, unhelpfully.

“Grisha!” Carla immediately snaps, she rolls her eyes at Dina who giggles, amused at their antics, “I’d apologize but from what you said it seems like you already know how he is.”

“Yes, I do. But we split seamlessly and I think Zeke is all the more happier for it. But lately, I’ve been noticing some,” she pauses, trying to look for the right word. “Changes? Attitude problems, sneaking out, and I figured having a positive father figure in his life would be good for him.”

Grisha doesn’t miss a beat, “send him to boarding school. You can’t leave monsters like that out in the real world—”

There’s a shout, a crash, and muffled thump from upstairs that Carla stands in time with. Grisha stares up at her, eyes slightly wide. Dina assumes Carla rising to her feet was due to hearing the noise but it was too on point with it; Grisha knows the real reason— Carla had been getting ready to drag him (and Eren) out of the house because Grisha couldn’t keep his comments to himself.

Someone wails.

“Boys, are you ok?” Dina calls worriedly, wandering to the edge of the stairs.

She glances up it, trying to peer through the dark. Carl is immediately a few paces behind her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, frantically, “it was probably Eren’s fault—”

Dina is quick to console, “no, no, Zeke can be difficult to get along with—”

Before she even finishes the statement Zeke appears at the top of the stairs and they watch him as he wander down looking properly composed if not a little bewildered, maybe even shaken. 

* * *

**A Few Minutes Earlier**

Zeke lounges on his bed, watching Eren play with his legos with a critical eye. Eren’s back is to him and he’s hardly spoken a word, didn’t thank Zeke or anything when he gave him the legos or offered to play video games with him, Zeke huffs to himself fiddling with the baseball in his hands.

The kid had only looked him dead in the eyes and declared him creepy before turning his back.

Zeke wasn’t creepy! He was fairly intelligent, very sociable and mature (Mr. Tom, his very smart and dependable, father figure of a neighbor, _told him so_ ! What does he need a blood related deadbeat dad for?), and had lots of neighborhood friends. He had Reiner and Bertholdt, Pieck (although she could be a bit of a baby), Annie (who was a baby, 8, but still a baby), Colt, just to name a _few_! They didn’t think he was creepy.

“I’m not creepy,” he snaps. “You’re creepy.”

“You were staring at us from the hallway in the dark,” Eren answers, flatly, shoulders moving in time with him connecting his legos.

Zeke tries to peer over his shoulder, it looks like he’s just making a long stick, although there are a pair of scissors he’d used to break open the bag lying next to him.

“I had to ease myself into seeing our father for the first time, otherwise my hatred would’ve consumed me.”

Eren finally looks at him, turning his head with his brows furrowed (the first emotion he’s shown since being here!). He looks Zeke up and down a moment, something akin to disbelief splayed over his features, then turns back around, expression dropping just as suddenly as it’d come; it was probably the first good look Eren had gotten, finally looking _at_ instead of _through_ the other child.

A breeze flutters in through the open window, causing Zeke to shiver but Eren barely reacts to the fluttering of his shirt. Simply shakes his head to clear his eyes of the hair that had fallen in front of it.

Zeke stands to close his window and his hands are even poised above his head at the sill when a wonderfully horrid idea strikes him.

“Say, Eren,” Zeke mutters a little ominously. He finally regains control of himself and closes the window but leans against it, slyly. “What will you do if I decide to hang you out of the window? Or choke you?”

Eren doesn’t miss a beat.

“Stab you,” he shrugs, unbothered, doesn’t even glance Zeke’s way to give him a strange look. He sets a green leggo on top of the blue one. He’s still building, his blocky 3D stick a mesh of colors, mainly red, yellow, green, and blue.

Zeke bursts into laughter but Eren doesn’t look up at him. Turning his head to look at the pile around him. He grabs a few more pieces and adds them to his whatever.

“Why don’t we be friends?” Zeke asks instead, “we can overthrow our father together.”

Eren pays him no mind.

“No,” he shrugs, “don’t like those. Mom says I don’t take care of them well.” he peers at Zeke a little curiously. It’s sort of innocent but something shivers down the older boy’s spine nonetheless that gives him pause. “I get into too many fights. I’ve never tried to fight someone your age, though.”

He gets to his feet, almost slowly, “maybe I should try?”

Zeke takes a step back, a single bead of sweat slides down his neck and along his shoulder blade, effectively chilling him, “no. Maybe not.”

A glance down has Zeke noticing the pair of scissors Eren’s attached to the end of his weapon, a weapon that is clutched in his hands and pointed at Zeke.

He throws himself out of the way just as Eren lunges at him jabbing the murder weapon at him.

 

Eren’s small gasp of surprise is accompanied by him smacking his cheek on the window frame the hundreds of legos clattering, noisily, to the ground.

He rubs his cheek furiously as he shakes his head.

“Ah,” Eren grumbles, looking at his destroyed toy, “darn it! I didn’t get have any fun.”

Zeke wails, “you’re fucking nuts!” he shouts as his mother calls for them, then darts for his door.

* * *

“Mom,” Zeke starts when he’s finally by her side, then pauses, a dazed tone in his voice matching the lost look as he peers up at Carla like he’s seeing her for the first time. She smiles at him, warmly, while Grisha’s first thought is that Eren’s been murdered. “I think I’d like to stay down here with you.”

“Oh,” Carla starts, brow pinched in worry, “did Eren do something? Was he what made that loud crash?”

Zeke nods, solemnly, “please take him home. Eren’s a psychopath.”

Carla freezes, the first time that she seems at a loss for words while, behind her, Grisha’s eyes widen comically. They’re both dumbfounded while Dine rushes.

“I’m so sorry, I have no idea—” she turns on her son, “Zeke! Why would you say something like that! Apologize right now.”

But there’s a stubborn jut in his jaw and his lower lip trembles, revealing just how much he doesn’t want to apologize. It’s the look in his eye, the one that says Zeke thinks he’s in the right that causes Carla to start moving.

“No, I’m so sorry for whatever it is he did, Eren has a hard time making friends.”

Dina fervently shakes her head turning back to her, “no, no, _I’m_ sorry, I shouldn’t have left them alone to their own devices. Zeke is very…” she trails off.

While Dina is looking lost Carla feels a light squeeze around her elbow, glancing back she sees Grisha staring her dead in the eye and she watches him mouth, _nuts_.

Tired of both of them Carla calls, “Eren, please come down, we’re going home.”

Carla and Grisha are both by the door putting on their shoes when Eren finally appears at the top of the step, not a hair out of place. Carla squints at him while he comes down.

Eren fixes Zeke with the same hollow expression he’d worn when he came.

His voice is light.

“Maybe next time.”

“Eren,” Carla barks, “get over here now. And apologize.”

He scowls, striding forward and taking her hand. “Why do _I_ have to apologize? I didn’t do anything.”

The first hint of brattiness he’s shown all day.

“He threatened me!”

Zeke gasps from his spot in the living room— he hadn’t gone with his mother to walk their guests to the door— “why, I _never_!”

Dina rolls her eyes as his antics and sighs, she opens the door before hugging Grisha and Carla in turn, the latter for a little longer. When she pulls back she’s addressing the woman (Eren’s stooped down to put on his sneakers).

“I’m sorry, Carla. About him, Zeke just,” she frowns a little to herself and shakes her head.

Carla hugs her again shaking her own, “no, I completely understand. Teenage boys can be like that.”  She looks passed the taller woman to wave at Zeke, whose nose is upturned. “I’m sorry about Eren, Zeke. I’m sure he had a great time.”

He grumbles something suspiciously like, “great time mauling _me_.”

Carla looks down, to tell Eren to wave but one glance tells her all she needs to know and she deems him a lost cost.

“Good to see you again, Grisha,” Dina smiles.

He smiles politely, “ you two, and please. Feel free to send Zeke over anytime.”

She looks touched, pressing a hand to her heart, “thank you, Grisha. That means a lot.”

The door shuts behind them and after adjusting his hat, taking Eren’s hand, and walking the three steps off the porch he says, “ _noooot_.”

“You’re both an embarrassment,” Carla starts, firmly, “Eren. I don’t know what you did to make Zeke so upset but you will be writing an apology and I will be thinking of a punishment for you, young man.”

He blows a resigned raspberry as he clambers into the car.

About a third of the way in to the ride Carla meets Eren’s drooping eyes in the rearview mirror and asks, “what’d you think of Zeke?”

Eren hums sleepily, head lolling, then slurs, “lame. I almost beat him up. He probably would have cried like a baby though.”

Grisha smiles fondly while Carla is semi-exasperated, she couldn’t put her finger on it but she knew for sure there wasn’t something quite right with that child.

“I don’t know why Zeke called you a psychopath,” Grisha just about coos at him. Eren’s eyes finally remain shut even though he gives a sleepy smile.

“You’re such a well behaved boy,” his voice takes on a darker tone, “not like that little menace to society. I don’t know how Dina can stand to be around it.”

Carla rubs at her forehead, people always say Eren has her temper but she’s starting to think Grisha’s carrying the determining gene.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want you all to know that Carla feels for Dina and thus has made it her a goal to be Dina’s help. If she’s ever having an especially hard time she offers to watch Zeke she tells her about parenting tips she’s heard about, and affirmations and etc. Anything that will help the mind evolve and bring her some peace.
> 
> I don’t know if anyone else has this type of mom, but Carla’s parenting is an imitation of my own mother’s; I was quite a smart mouth growing up (still am, actually) so I was always mouthing off any chance I got and she sort of perfected this sweet front in front of others but there was always this look in her eye she would get that would let me know she was getting real tired of my crap. It’s sort of ingrained into my head. Actually, everytime I open my mouth when I’m having a face-to-face conversation w her I get the look at least once, ha.


End file.
